A blessing on the man who puts his trust in the Lord, with the Lord for his hope. He is like a tree by the waterside that thrusts its roots to the stream: when the heat comes it feels no alarm, its foliage stays green; it has no worries in a year of drought, and never ceases to bear fruit.
O Lord, the vast summer
In my hands now;
Halving the sunned world there.
Seeds spill into
The tills of loss,
Where the restless roots begin
Composing their poetry
Before a dark-blank audience,
Before Spring's steepening light
In every leaf and blossom's voice,
Fills the voluminous verses of shadow
Beneath Your light
And every stage of ripening.